A Last Meeting
by Ramzes
Summary: It was just Peter Pettigrew's rotten luck to come upon John Lupin, of all people, and in a Muggle club, no less. Something had to be done about the boy. It was just a matter of self-preservation.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

**Since I managed to finish one of the stories in my The Hardest Battle AU (The Blacklisted One| and I am on my way to the end of To Win at Any Cost, I decided to re-upload this story since I regained at least some semblance of control over my fics.**

Chapter 1

He did not like Muggle clubs but right now, they were the only place where he could go in his true form without taking the risk of being recognized. And, Merlin, he needed to be around people as a human, otherwise he could soon find himself unable to stop himself from transforming in the middle of the living room of the Burrow and hexing the two idiotic boys into oblivion with one of their own wands. _James and Sirius could pass for nice people, compared to these twins. _For Merlin's sake, they had tried to transfigure him into a pin-cushion! After that, he felt that he needed to leave the Burrow at least for a while, so he had waited until everyone was asleep and then he had taken Percy's wand and Apparated as soon as he left the house and its Antiapparition wards. The rest of it was easy – a rat had no problem slinking into a Muggle house and taking the billfold of its owner, as well as some Muggle clothes that made him look like a Muggle. And so, here he was, sitting at the bar, drinking whiskey – Firewhiskey was so much better but he had no right to complain right now, – a human for a first time in nine years.

And she was there, too.

No matter how hard he tried, Peter Pettigrew could not help but stare at the woman with long dark hair and olive skin. She and her companion were sitting at the table next to his and he could not hear what they were talking about, nor could he see the man's face. He had his back turned to Peter, but Peter could see the girl's face and that was enough to distract him. She was not Angela, of course she was not, but she pretty much did look like her. The same heart-shaped face, the same deep dark eyes with long lashes, hell, she even seemed to move the same way when dancing like Angela had done once – when she had danced with Sirius. Peter was sure that he'd never met her, yet he could not take his eyes off her. She was young – no more than twenty – and the mere sight of her reminded him of better days, when he still had friends, when he was still a human and not the rat-toy of two thoughtless boys. He drank the last sip in his glass and ordered another whiskey, trying hard not to look at her without much success.

This time, she seemed to notice his staring at her, because she whispered something to the man who was accompanying her. He turned his head, shrank him with a look – and Peter froze. There was no mistaking those bright blue eyes and fair face surrounded by shockingly black hair – the same looks that made the girls at Hogwarts melt at Raymond Lupin's feet in Peter's first year; the gorgeous looks he had inherited from his mother. Peter did not dare to look away for fear that it would attract the boy's attention to him even more. _Oh Merlin, did he recognize me_? No, there was no recognition in this blue stare. Peter let himself relax a little, but not even a minute later, John Lupin's head turned to him again, almost by its own volition, and Peter found himself trying not to squirm under his gaze.  
There was bewildered air around the young man – he had not recognized him, not yet, but he knew he had met him before. Peter realized that sooner or later, John Lupin would find it out and, knowing his parents and living for seven years with his uncle, Peter was sure it would rather be sooner than later. _Why things like that always happen to me and me alone?_ He had removed his disguise for a first time in nine years and he had chanced on John Lupin of all people in a Muggle club no less! The boy was old enough to remember him and when he realized who he was, then a little chat with Remus would be enough for his former friend to realize what had happened with James, Lily, and Voldemort. Remus would probably be able to convince Dumbledore and soon Peter would find himself with not only his two former friends following on his track but every wizard and witch in Britain, and it all would happen by the sole reason that, instead of going to a party in Diagon-Alley, as any self-respecting wizard would do, John Lupin had decided to bring his girlfriend to a Muggle club.

Peter knew what he should do to prevent this from happening. The problem was, could he really do it? John had been a child then; he was nor one of those who had made Peter feel inferior and good for nothing. Merlin, he had helped Remus babysit him for years! More than once, Raymond Lupin had paid the four of them for babysitting John while he and Sylvie were busy studying and later – working. Some of Peter's best memories included the boy in front of him. Could he do it?

While he was leaving the club, he once again felt that John looking on him. _Yes_, he told himself, transformed and sneaked back in, so he could come near their table and learn what he needed. A face with amber eyes and fair hair suddenly emerged in his mind. _I'm sorry, Remus, _hethought_, but it's a matter of self-preservation_.

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Eleanor Peters smiled and took the cup of tea that John handed her. "Thank you, I really needed that."

He sat on the sofa next to her. "To declare my solidarity, I'll have one too."

The girl laughed softly. "John, you hate tea."

"That only proves my love for you," he answered and took a sip of his own cup. "You look tired."

"Because I am." She noticed his concerned face and her eyes softened. "For Merlin's sake, John, I am pregnant, not ill. I should feel tired, that's how these things go."

He stood up and began pacing. Looking at him, the young woman sighed and asked: "You're worried too, aren't you? Talking to your parents."

John shook his head. "Maybe, but only a little. Don't worry, it will be fine. Nor, really, it will be fine."

She did not seem convinced, obviously thinking about her own parents' reaction. He told her that and she nodded sadly. "I knew they would react just like that. After all, they did just the same to Angela all those years ago... not that I remember much of that, of course, I was too young." She looked at her half-drained cup and tried to remember better but she had been only five; all that came to her mind were her father's shouts and her mother's sobs... and later, the tears in her sister's eyes when Angela came to tell her goodbye and explained that they would not see each other for a very long time. Eleanor had tried for years to remember her sister's looks but she had been too young – the time had erased everything. There was only one thing coming to her mind – long hair. For a first time she had seen a picture of Angela in the place they were now – John's grandparents' home. Eleanor's parents had thrown away all photos of their eldest daughter. The girl wondered briefly whether they had done the same with her own pictures, now, when she was guilty of the same crime as Angela.

"Don't worry, Nor," John insisted. "I'm telling you, you have no reason to."

"No, really?" She gave him a half-smile. "We're both nineteen, John! We're still in our Auror training. It's the most inconvenient time for a baby. Hell, how could I forget to take the potion. Just once and it – it happened!"

He stopped pacing and sighed, irritated. "That's not the end of the world. We're going to move our plans faster, Nor. That's all. Early marriages are not unusual in my family. My Dad married Mum the summer he graduated from Hogwarts."

"But it was different, can't you see? Your mother was not pregnant. They will think that I've done it on purpose!"

"I very much doubt it, Nor, and even if they do, what does it matter? You're going to marry me and not them. Once they get to know you, they're going to love you, I can assure you."

She nodded and smiled bravely. He resumed his pacing.

"What's bothering you?" the young woman asked after observing him for a while. "I know it isn't our conversation with your grandparents tomorrow, when they come back from Italy. What is it?"

"That man," John answered. Eleanor looked at him, startled. "The man we saw in the club. The one that didn't take his eyes off you."

"Yes, what about him?"

"I know him. I know I've met him before. I just can't remember his name."

She shrugged and shifted on the sofa, nestling more comfortably against the pillows. "You must be wrong. If you had met him, he would have come to us, not looking at me like that."

"That's another thing that is bothering me," John answered grimly. "Why would he keep looking at you? Are you sure that he did?"

"I am not blind, John," she snapped. "Why would I say that he was looking at me the whole time if he didn't?"

"Something here is not right," John said. "Not right at all."

"Maybe you know him from France, before coming here on exchange program," Eleanor suggested.

"Maybe. Never mind, let's talk about something else."

She smiled. "Maybe you could tell me again your life in France. About your family. I'm very curious."

"There's nothing unusual about it," the young man answered. "You've already met Arion."

"I like your brother, he's a nice boy." Her words were sincere: Arion's sudden decision to visit his brother had given her the chance to meet at least one member of John's family before the introduction that they had planned for three days later, on Christmas day. They would go to France and tell John's parents about their decision to get married and about the baby.

"That he is," John agreed. "Unlike his brother: nobody would have told _me_ that I was a nice boy, you included."

"Well, at age five you were quite... let's say unpleasant."

He laughed. "Yes, it's true. But I kept my word."

"I never said you didn't."

They looked at each other, remembering those early days when they've been playing together as very young children. Her parents had been neighbours of his grandparents, the two of them were the same age, so it was only natural that they had played together a lot. Once, Eleanor had told him that she did not like being called 'Elle' – the nickname that everyone was used to calling her. Since then, John had started calling her 'Nor' –till the day her older sister was banished from their home for refusing to abort Sirius Black's child. Mr and Mrs Peters had been convinced that Remus Lupin, Angela's best friend, had played a part in her relationship with that awful Black boy, so they had stopped any contacts with the Lupins. Therefore, Eleanor was not allowed to see John anymore. They had met once, though, by chance. "I won't forget you," he'd told her. "I'll always call you 'Nor'. And when I grow up, I'll marry you!"

"Everything will be fine," he said again. "You'll see. My parents will support us. Even if they don't approve my decision, they won't refuse us their help."

She stretched her hand, he took it and sat next to her again. "Besides, they know how difficult it is to raise a child when both parents are studying," he continued. "When I was little, I was always with my grandparents or various babysitters. I'll tell you that the babysitters that I loved most were my uncle and his friends – all Hogwarts students!" He laughed. "I adored their summer days of babysitting because they did not know how to deal with a child and they were afraid to death that I might cry or have an angry fit. They were ready to do anything to stop that."

"And of course, you played on that weakness of theirs," Eleanor said dryly.

"Of course I did! It was hilarious. I..." He suddenly gasped and slapped his forehead with his open palm. "Of course! How stupid I am!" He sprung from his seat again and started pacing the room for a third time this evening. "It was him. Eleanor, the man, the man in the club! It was Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew!"

"Impossible! John, Pettigrew is dead."

"Obviously he isn't. Nor, how many dead men do you know who are used to visiting nightclubs? And no, I'm not talking about _Inferi_."

She shook her head. "John, you're mistaken and you know that. This man, he might have looked like Pettigrew but you know that it is impossible."

He gave her a nasty glare. "Are you telling me that I am hallucinating? Peter Pettigrew is the one who has obviously risen from his grave but _I_ am the one who is hallucinating?"

Eleanor sighed. "John, be rational," she began patiently. "He was no ghost. I'm telling you that he was a normal man. He was sitting right there, for Merlin's sake, holding his glass with his hand with a missing finger and looking at me..." Suddenly, she stopped when the meaning of her own words dawned on her even before it dawned on John. Pettigrew's body was never found and the biggest part of him that was – it was his _finger_.

They looked at each other for a whole minute before finally John spoke: "Do you know what that means?"

She nodded. "If we are right, then Sirius Black has been sent to Azkaban for a crime that never took place."

6


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I hate lawyers and I hate J. K. Rowling because she is the one who owns Harry Potter.**

Chapter 2

She did not look like Angela that much, after all, not at short distance. Her cheekbones were softer and her lips were fuller, her nose was slightly longer and with finer shape. Anyway, it was easy to look at her and imagine that he was back at Hogwarts, hurrying for the Great Hall and seeing Angela Peters with the corner of his eyes coming out of the library… Angela and Sirius, laughing and kissing while James, Remus and he himself good-naturedly mocked them… It seems that thousands of years separated him from those happy days.

Well, he was not here to reminiscence, after all. Now, he had the perfect opportunity to put his plan in practice – Eleanor Peters was sitting in front of the dressing table, combing her dark hair, and John was standing next to the window, looking outside in the night. Peter emerged from behind the wardrobe where he had been hiding, and changed back into himself.

His image appeared into the mirror and he saw the girl's eyes widen. Without losing a second, she reached for her wand, shouting some warning at John, but it was too late.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Peter yelled and the wand flew out oh her hands before she could really take a good grasp at it. The next moment, she and John had their arms and legs tied up and, unable to keep standing, John was now lying on the Oriental rug in the room he had given Eleanor.

_Well, that was it._ John held no illusions about the reason for Pettigrew's visit. He and Nor had no chance to escape, not with their wands out of their reach and their limbs tied up. "Well, well, if that isn't Peter himself," he said. If they were going to die, he could at least tell Pettigrew what he thought of him and his betrayal – because that was the only explanation that he and Nor could think of. Sirius Black was never the one to betray the Potters – Peter Pettigrew was. Neither of them could guess how he had managed to fake his own death but it must have been the same way like the sudden appearance he had just made in the middle of the room in the old Lupins' household. "How did you do it?"

Peter blinked. "What?"

"How you managed to enter without us noticing, he means," Eleanor explained from her chair in front of the dressing table. "That's how you faked your own death, right? So, how did you do it?"

Peter shook his head. "I knew that sooner or later, you were going to work it all out but not so soon. I'm deeply impressed."

"I don't give a damn about your being impressed!" John said and gritted his teeth. "How did you do it?"

"How much do you know?" Peter asked.

"Enough."

Peter sighed. "I hoped for a different answer. I thought that if you didn't know, perhaps I could just put a Memory Charm on both of you and nothing more. Now, I can't do this."

John snorted in disgust from the floor. "You wouldn't have done it anyway. You're too cowardly to take the risk that one day, we might restore our memories, so save us your theatrics and tell us what we want to know."

Peter looked at the boy. Even lying tied on the floor, John somehow managed to sneer at him. Even within a hair's breath of death, he still held his feeling of being superior – _just like Raymond_, Peter thought, irritated. "I'll kill you, you know," he said. "I… I don't have any other choice."

John gave him a disdainful glare. "There is always a choice," he said. "You had the choice to stop before betraying your friends. You _chose_ not to."

"Why?" Eleanor whispered. "Why did you do this? How could anyone do this to his own friends? Kill them and then frame his other friend for their death."

"Whys don't matter, Nor," John told her. "The question is, how. I mean, I remember enough from my parents' conversations to know that there was a spy and my uncle's friends all suspected that it was him because of his condition. Now, we know that Pettigrew must have led them into believing this to hide his own betrayal. It's not this difficult to guess that he must have somehow convinced the Potters to make him their Secret Keeper instead of Sirius Black. What we don't know is how he managed to fake his own death – how the hell he managed to blow up the street – killing twelve innocent Muggles, by the way – and then put the blame on Black."

John was talking as if he was not a prisoner tied on the floor but a judge in a courtroom. His self-control somehow irritated Peter – surely the boy did understand that he would die soon, along with his girlfriend and the baby that she was carrying? _Getting pregnant out of wedlock – obviously the similarities between the Peters sisters went far beyond mere appearance_, Peter thought. "I'd love to explain it to you," he said, doing his best to imitate Sirius' haughty manner, "but I'm afraid that right now, I just don't have the time."

He pointed his wand – or rather, Percy Weasley's wand – at Eleanor, and then looked from her to John. "Do you want to beg for your lives? To say your final words of provocation? No? What a pity."

"Go to hell," John said, and Peter laughed.

"Just what I expected of you. Oh, just like Raymond – or maybe Remus. No, Remus would have kept proud silence, right?"

"Do not dare say their names!" John snapped. "Come on, do it now!"

"Are you so impatient to die, kid?"

"He's impatient to get rid of the image of your disgusting face, and so am I," Eleanor said in a desperate provocation, her hand pressed to her stomach. _I don't want to die_, she thought_, I want to live, I want to live with John – I want my baby to live…_ But she held no illusions about that. Pettigrew had proven himself capable of betraying his own friends, so why would he spare John and her – the two people who could reveal the truth about him? The Potters were dead; Sirius Black was in the most horrible prison on earth; Eleanor's own sister was dead because of Pettigrew – because, if Sirius had been with her, Angela wouldn't have paid greater attention to where she was walking, instead of being oblivious to the outside world. John and Eleanor were the next ones… Well, if they were going to die, they could at least show this vermin how much they despised him. "Really, I don't know what I've done to deserve the fate of dying with your face being the last thing I see. Come on, Pettigrew, whatever you do, do it now."

And all of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. All three of them froze.

"John? Are you in there?"

_Arion_, John thought. _No, no, don't go in, go your way, leave the house, run_!

"Who's that?" Pettigrew whispered.

"My brother," John whispered back, reluctantly. _Don't go in, Arion, don't!_

"Send him away!"

John nodded from the floor and tried to make his voice as calm as possible, "Go to bed, Arion, it's late."

"Are you okay?" the boy asked from outside. "Your voice sounds funny."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Go to bed, it's late."

The three of them listened for the sound of retreating steps. Instead, they heard Arion's voice again, "John, is someone in there? I thought I heard a voice..."

"No, nobody," John said. "Run, Arion!" he shouted when he saw Pettigrew turning to the door, raising his wand.

BAM! The door exploded and Arion fell on the floor in the room, confused and... _blooded_. Peter immediately took his wand out of his hand with an _Expelliarmus_.

"Arion! Are you okay?" John asked in a frightened voice. Arion shook his head a few times to clear his vision.

"Yeah... Yeah, I think I'm okay." He tried to stand up but his vision blurred again and he fell right on top of his brother. "What's going on here? Who is that?"

John sighed. Now, Arion was in the same boat with him and Nor. _But he's a child_! _And what of that, _his inner voice a_sked. You're not much older than him and neither is Nor. Your child won't even be born because of that... because of that... thing._

"Many things happened today, Arion," he said. "The main thing that now we know the truth. Sirius Black never betrayed the Potters, you see."

Arion blinked and a thin streak of blood ran down on his cheek. "He didn't?"

"No, he didn't. That's why we're here in this position. Arion Lupin," John said in a dramatic voice, "meet the real traitor – Peter Pettigrew."

Arion blinked again. "But that is... that is... Are you sure?"

"No, Arion, he has the two of us Disarmed and tied up for our pleasure," Eleanor said, very sarcastically. "Of course we are bloody well sure! You shouldn't have come in. Now, you'll face the same fate that awaits us."

"Oh. And what fate might it be?" Arion kept his calm face. _Just like Remus_, Peter thought. _He not only looks like Remus, he behaves like him too._ Only once had he ever seen Remus losing control – when the three of them had confronted him about his lycanthropy. He had been so afraid, so sure that they would despise him now...

He was so deeply absorbed in his memories of better days that he missed John's whisper in his brother's ear, "Arion, when I say jump, jump through the window. Go out, ask for help. Otherwise, he's going to kill us all."

Arion whispered 'yes," and John met Eleanor's eyes and looked away at the window to indicate what his intentions were. She nodded almost unnoticeably. The window was their only chance and Arion was the only one who could jump through it.

"Oh, death, I suppose," she said, answering Arion's question. "He's good at it, you see. He has practice." Then, she made a sudden movement with her tied hands to her wand which she well knew that she could not reach. Peter reacted instinctively and rushed in her direction to stop her from retrieving her wand.

"Jump, Arion!" John whispered. With his face blooded and his head swimming, the boy did not hesitate – he stood up, took a leap through the closed window, feeling little pieces of glass digging into every inch of his skin, and fold into a ball to land on the earth without a crash – the window was ten feet high over the earth. He was just running out of the front door, when Peter's curse overtook him.

Inside the room, John and Eleanor were looking at each other with horror, waiting for hearing the incantation of the Killing Curse, and when the word '_Obliviate'_ filled their ears, they both relaxed a little. Peter himself was amazed – he had pointed his wand at the boy with the intention to kill him, not make him forget everything about that night, but the words '_Avada_ _Kedavra'_ somehow could not leave his mouth. Maybe it was because the boy looked so much like Remus – the Remus who had been his friend before envy and hatred came between them. Not that it mattered. He decided to leave the boy to be – someone would find him soon, so the consequences of the curse would not be fatal.

John Lupin and Eleanor Peters, however, were another matter – accepted for Auror training, undoubtedly brilliant wizards, wise and capable. They would not leave things like that – would not live with holes in their memory. They would find a way to remember it all, and then where would Peter be? _It's a matter of self-preservation_, he told himself. _Self_-_preservation_.

* * *

_Six hours later_

When Remus came to his parents' house, he saw that the yard was full of people, many of who wore official robes of Aurors and Healers. He came in just in time to see a stretcher with a prone body on it being carried out of the house. "What happened here?" he asked, fear already spreading all over his body.

"There was an accident," a middle-aged woman answered shortly. "Two people were seriously hurt."

Remus went to the stretcher, preparing himself for the worst, expecting to see John dead, or maimed, but it was not John at all. It was a young woman lying on the stretcher, her long dark hair hanging lifelessly around her pale, heart-shaped face.

"Angela!" he gasped, and one of the men threw him a strange look.

"Do you know her? Can you tell us what her name is?"

"Yes, that is Angela... no, Eleanor. Yes, right, that is Eleanor Peters." It had to be her – John girlfriend, who was also Angela's little sister. She looked like Angela – the way he had seen her for the last time, lying in the hospital bed... dead...

"What happened?" he asked again. "There were two boys here, too..."

His voice faded when the man nodded heavily. "We found them. Before give you any further information, I have to ask you – are you a relative of theirs?"

Remus nodded. "I am their uncle."

"Oh. I'm sorry. It's a real tragedy. The truth is, the younger boy is at St Mungo's already – he is unconscious, he has a pretty nasty wound on his head and many scratches but I think he's going to make it. The older one..." He sighed sadly.

"Yes?" Remus encouraged him. _Please, don't say anything, _he was screaming inside,hisheart almost frozen by the expression of sympathy on the man's face_. I don't want to know_.

"I can't say anything for sure, he should be examined at St Mungo's, but I think that he and the girl had been hit with the _Existente_."

The earth disappeared from under Remus' feet. He barely felt the man's arms supporting him when he almost lost his balance. The _Existente_. The _Existente_. The _Existente_.

The second stretcher, this one with John on it, passed along Remus. He looked at his nephew's calm face, surrounded by black hair. John was deathly pale but since he was fair-skinned by nature and his black hair made him look even paler, he looked as if he was asleep. It was only that he would not wake up from this sleep. Never. He would spend _his whole life_ like that because there was no counter-spell for the Curse of the Living Dead.

"We have to inform his parents," the man said.

"I'll do it," Remus said. The last thing he wanted was for Raymond and Sylvie to hear about their son's condition from a complete stranger. "I'll use my parents' fireplace and then, I'll immediately Floo to St Mungo's."

And while he was throwing a handful of Floo Powder in the fireplace, he wondered what it was that John had wanted to ask him when he had Owled him last night with the entreaty to see him as soon as possible. _Now, I'll never know_, he thought, and the next moment, his brother's face appeared in the flames. Raymond frowned when he saw his brother's expression, and he immediately asked him what was wrong.

Remus cleared his throat. "Raymond," he began, "there was an accident last night..."

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**A.N. Well, what do you think?**

7


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